


Blood and Rain

by Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cliffhangers, Fear, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Injury, M/M, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Thunder and Lightning, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Lady%20of%20Prompts
Summary: Someone is chasing Aziraphale and Crowley.The storm that drives the Bentley off the road has an intelligence behind it. A malevolence. And whoever - or whatever - pursues them won't stop until one is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.--Whumptober 2020 fic. More may follow.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Blood and Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hunted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124337) by [Katzedecimal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal). 



> Written for Whumptober 2020, Prompt 9 (For the Greater Good) and Prompt 30 (Now Where Did That Come From). CW for car crash, injuries (non-graphic) and cliffhanger ending.

The Bentley careened off the road into a ditch, narrowly avoiding the blast of lightning that grounded itself on the asphalt.

Aziraphale and Crowley both summoned as many miracles as they could in the three seconds before the front of the vintage car hit the tree. The windscreen shattered - branches speared in at driver and passenger. Crowley’s forehead hit the steering wheel, but though the impact rattled him, he’d managed to prevent any damage to his corporation.

“Are you--” Crowley started, but was cut off by a crash of thunder. Not from the bolt that had almost hit them, but from the next, and the next.

“They aren’t giving up,” Aziraphale called, as flashes of blue-white light cept closer and closer. “We’ll have to run.”

“Run?” Crowley glanced behind them. He tried to keep his tone calm, but behind his glasses his eyes were wide and serpentine. “You think we’ll be safer running through a field than in a car?”

“Do you believe this is a mundane storm?” Hailstones began to pound the roof of the car, shaking it. One left a dent so deep they could see it from the inside.

“I was...really hoping,” Crowley grumbled, even as he threw open the door and scrambled out. Despite the sting of the hail and rain, he paused for a quick glance at the front end of the Bentley - the tree had dented the front, but not crumpled it. The engine was probably intact. He lay a hand on the battered roof and whispered, “We’ll come back for you,” before pushing through the bushes and into the field beyond.

Rain and cold sliced his skin as he raced through the knee-high grass, catching up to Aziraphale. Already the angel was puffing and struggling, right hand pressed to his side.

“We need...someplace to hide!” Aziraphale shouted over the rising storm, wind catching his words and tearing them away.

“Where?” Crowley took the angel’s left hand, pulling him onward. “A church?”

“Probably not.” Azraphale’s voice was lost in the next lightning strike, a blinding explosion far too close for comfort, showering them with mud and shattered rock. At least the hail seemed to have died. Crowley tugged harder, trying to speed Aziraphale up. “Feels more...like my side...than yours…” the angel gasped.

 _“Not_ your side,” Crowley snarled. “We have our _own_ side.”

“Of course. How could I forget?”

Crowley turned back in time to see the weak smile - but he also saw how pale Aziraphale’s face was, and the dark line above his brow, and the blood dripping just past his eye.

“Aziraphale!” He skidded to a halt in the mud, so abruptly Aziraphale bumped into him with a muffled gasp. “What - your head!”

Blinking in confusion, Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s hand to swipe at his face, looking at the mix of blood and rain on his fingers. “Oh...oh...the car…”

“Didn’t you protect yourself, you idiot?” Crowley pressed numb fingers to the wound, trying to heal it.

“Well...yes.” Aziraphale gulped and struggled to catch his breath. “Tried to...keep your car...intact at the same time. But...it would appear I...I failed at both.”

Lighting flashed again, searing into the ground ahead of them, then behind. The rain doubled, and hailstones fell once more. One struck the back of Crowley’s hand, another caught Aziraphale on the side of the head.

With a wordless shout, Crowley snapped out his wings, wrapping them both in a feathery embrace, shielding them from the storm. “We have to keep going, Aziraphale,” he mumbled, pulling his angel close.

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale started, the sound lost in the wind and thunder. His left hand clutched at Crowley. “No, my dear. _You_ have to keep going.” Crowley started to growl an objection, but Aziraphale cut him off with a hand to his chest. “Listen, we don’t have much time. You were always better at running and hiding. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said quickly, not giving Crowley time to interject, “but I’ll only slow you down. I’ll hold them off, you find a place to hide. Burrow, if you can. That should help.”

“I’m not _leaving_ you,” Crolwey snarled. He crushed Aziraphale to his chest, wings tight around them. Through the feathers, they could see the flashes of lightning, drawing closer.

Aziraphale grunted in frustration. “Don’t be absurd. I’m the better fighter, Crowley. I’ll handle them, then I’ll come find you.”

“But--”

“There’s no time!” He shoved Crowley, a one-handed push strong enough to send him stumbling back. “Run! Just run!”

Another bolt of lightning and the air filled with the burnt-match scent of sulphur. Power from the sky and the smell of the pits. Strange how Heaven and Hell could be so utterly indistinguishable.

Crowley surged forward, grabbed Aziraphale by the lapels, and kissed him. It was rushed, fumbling, and tasted of blood and rain. The angel had probably bit his lip in the accident. One soft hand pressed against the small of his back, pulling him closer.

When Crowley released him, Aziraphale smiled and patted his arm. “I’ll see you soon, my love. Now, please. Go.”

And though it hurt more than anything he’d ever done, Crowley turned and ran, into the storm and hail and wind. He tucked his wings away and shifted forms - as a serpent he was faster than any human - winding his way through the jungle of grass and hailstones as large as his skull. He could no longer _hear_ the lightning, but he could see it, and feel it, a gut-twisting surge through his stomach as the ground rolled and swelled like an ocean.

In a little more than a minute, he reached the far side of the field. Rearing up, head above the grass, Crowley could see a ditch, a hedgerow, probably some very upset sheep on the other side, looking for shelter. Not ideal, but he was running out of residual heat from his time in human form. A few more minutes and he would succumb to the torpor, but if he could find a burrow first…

Crowley slid along the ditch, looping around more hailstones and torn-off twigs. His back and sides already felt bruised from the icy assault. He flicked his tongue, but of course all he could taste was rain, and mud, and the lingering flavor of Aziraphale’s blood.

He flicked his tongue again.

It didn’t taste right, the blood, too thick, too... _much_ for a bitten lip.

He’d been bleeding from the head.

And gotten out of breath far too quickly, even by Aziraphale’s standards.

And he’d only moved and gestured with one hand, the other clamped tight to his side.

And he’d grunted and gasped whenever Crowley touched him…

Rearing up again, Crowley looked at the hail, the damage it had caused. No chance it had only just restarted. The hail had been falling since the moment the Bentley crashed, and Aziraphale had been shielding them until…

Until he hadn’t had the strength anymore.

Crowley shot back across the grass, moving faster than he ever had before, ignoring cold and rain and pounding hail. In barely half a minute, he could see - up ahead - glowing figures of pure light, at least half a dozen, surrounding one who was pale and dim, kneeling half-collapsed on the ground.

The serpent shot past, no longer a serpent, some unnatural creature of fangs and claws and wings.

He threw himself at the nearest figure, mauling it, teeth sinking into its throat. Then he kicked free and launched towards the next, coiling around it, grabbing at its head with clawed hands while his wings flapped wildly.

Crowley wouldn’t last long. He was no fighter - he was a coward, a trickster, a being that lurked in the shadows. But right now, he had the element of surprise and six thousand years of protective instincts. He would not let them hurt his angel.

By the time the glowing beings had beaten him down and thrown him into the mud, too weak to stand, he’d put three of them out of the fight.

“Glad _that’s_ settled,” one of them growled. “Which do we take?”

The voice wasn’t familiar - nothing about them was familiar. They didn’t quite _feel_ like angels, but they certainly weren’t demons.

“Doesn’t matter,” another said. “Either’s as good as the other. Just grab one before _they_ notice.”

“Take me,” Crowley said immediately, pushing himself up by his arms, crawling forward with teeth bared.

A foot lashed out, kicking him in the jaw. “The _other_ one is less trouble.”

Crowley glanced over his shoulder. Aziraphale lay on his side, eyes dazed, mouth moving weakly. His chin was still streaked with blood that he’d coughed up, dripping down to mix with the rain around him. Whatever they’d done to him, he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Pushing himself up again, Crowley glared at their attackers. “You _will_ take me. If you even touch him, I will fight you until you have to destroy me. And I don’t think you have time for that.”

“But if we take you, you’ll come quietly?”

Crowley nodded.

Glowing fingers grabbed him by the hair and pulled him upright. Crowley bit back a shout and shifted the rest of the way to human form. As soon as he’d changed, one of the beings hit him in the stomach, nearly knocking him over again.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale, still in the mud, struggled to rise, half-dazed eyes in a panic. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, so it was something else that ran down his face.

“S’alright,” Crowley said as soothingly as he could, while bright white hands landed on his shoulders. “I know you’ll come for me.”

“Yes!” It was more a squeak, a strangled choking noise. “Wherever you are, I’ll--”

Everything turned white.

Then black.

Then white again.

And Crowley blinked, looking around a hallway that was neither Heaven nor Hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Whumptober!
> 
> I have thoughts on where to go with this one, but haven't written them yet. If I do continue, I will likely use Whumptober prompts to guide the story. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, and please let me know your thoughts in a comment!


End file.
